


If Dog Treats Be the Food of Love

by three



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dogs, M/M, Meet-Cute, i just feel strongly about lance's internal monologue?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/three/pseuds/three
Summary: dog park coffee shop meet-cute gone wrong featuring lance's verbal diarrhoea and my sparse knowledge of dog breeds





	1. hobgoblins

**Author's Note:**

> hi! just a goofy fic probably going to be a short one for cuteness.

 

“You have a cute dog.”

It would have been fine, Lance was sure, if he’d brought his dog with him. Instead, standing quietly in line at Starbucks, it was unbearably creepy. Immediate regret flushed Lance’s whole body and he twisted his card in his hand. 

“The black lab, right?” He continued shakily

The other man gave a tight smile. Yikes. It wasn’t like he was following him, they went to the same dog park. It was easy to remember him: he and the lab looked alike. Shiny, black hair and dark eyes. Though they differed at their expressions. Labs were perpetually happy and this man was not. Lance didn’t blame him for not recognizing him; He didn’t look much like his own dog. Judging by the under-bite, Mavis was a boxer-mix of some sort. 

The man was staring and Lance stared right back. He must have be trying to place his face, Lance thought. He wondered if he just jutted his jaw out, maybe he’d get it. But Lance decided to save him the awkwardness of it. “I’m from the dog park.” A flash of relief. He mumbled some sort of apology and Lance waved it off. He really wanted to do the jaw thing; Lance wanted him to recognize him as Mavis’ owner. He did the jaw thing. 

“Does this help?” It came out a bit strangled. He looked terrified.  _ Right, okay. Poor choice. _ Lance righted himself. “That’s what my dog looks like.” He explained.

“Riiiiight.” He replied with the same tone you use for unfortunate children and the elderly. Lance nodded, unsure what to do with the hole he’d dug himself into. The man turned around to the barista to order his coffee and Lance listened absently. Iced coffee, no sweetener, double milk.

 

The next day, he wasn’t there. Lance sent his thanks to Jesus Christ or whoever was taking those kinds of calls these days. Sunday school was a foggy memory of really bad chiptunes and stained, illustrated Bibles. Still, shout-out to God for preserving his dignity.  

He got his drink and took a seat by the window. Lance came here for the same reason he went to the dog park  —  to trick himself into thinking he had a social life. Nothing like forced interaction to brighten your day!

He opened his book. It was dogeared to page 87, but he hadn’t read any of it. It was a “conversation starter”. That’s what his mom had told him when she gave it to him.  _ The A to Z of Politics. _ Right now, Lance was on “C”, Julius Caesar. Iconic. Maybe he’d read this section.

 

Usually he pretended to read for at least an hour. The problem was, in his concentration, he’d forgotten to turn the pages. Every few minutes he’d remember, but he imagined the other patrons saw right through him. That, or Lance was a very comprehensive reader.

He took a sip of his coffee. Sometimes Lance tries to pretend he knows what good coffee tastes like. His sister, Flavia, always talks about “notes” of “chestnut” but whenever he think of coffee, he just says “beany”. So mostly he keeps his thoughts to himself.

 

So there Lance was: sipping, skimming, when up walked this tall, suit-y man. Though, man wasn’t the right word really, he was more of a long boy. He was dressed in what seemed to be the most fitted albeit cheap-looking suit Lance had ever seen. The slightly shiny blazer gave him away.

“That looks interesting. Some light reading, I suppose?” He supposed wrong. 

 

Did he really have to talk about this now, Lance wondered.

 

“Yes…?” It came out like a question.

“Really! It’s so nice to find another individual so politically inclined. In fact, I’m studying poli-sci right now. I’m in first year, but I think I have a much deeper understanding. In fact, I once….” He went on. Lance nodded, Lance smiled. This was what he came here for, right? He kept going. 

 

Lance took another sip of coffee and the thought came again. “Beany”. He stifled a laugh, hoping he didn’t notice. He did. The stream was interrupted, a silence stretching between them. 

“Something funny?” He asked, uncomfortably polite.

“No. I mean, yes. Not you, you’re not funny.” Lance caught himself. “I mean, I’m sure you are! But I wasn’t laughing at you.”  
“Of course.” He said, but the damage was done. His face reminded him of a lizard. He wanted to see his tongue, if it was forked.

 

“Well, I’ve got a lecture to get to.” He lied. And suddenly Lance knew why he was studying poli-sci. His voice was slicker than yesterday’s lasagna. He was trying to brush him off, cutting his losses before he was too far in.

_ Hey! Buddy! You were the one who approached me, _ Lance wanted to say, to remind him that he got himself into this. But he was gone, blazer flapping behind him like a shiny reptilian tail. He sighed and went back to his book.

Julius Caesar looked up at him unhappily. “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

 

After that, his day only got worse. 

 

At work, they moved his desk. Instead of the window-seat, Lance was now stuck next to the copier, cursed to listen to the mechanical drone. When he got home, Mavis had shat everywhere. Mavis was his dog, to be clear. She greeted him at the door with her toothy smile and ran excitedly to the kitchen to present him with the first of many gifts.

Two hours and a lot of bleach later, the smell was finally fading. Despite it being December, Lance flung the windows wide, letting the cold air in. It hit his nipples like an 18-wheeler made of ice, but anything was better than the stink of dog shit. Mavis seemed to agree and took to the balcony to celebrate, wagging her stumpy tail. For the next hour, she sat barking madly every time a snowflake landed on the ground. It was December.  _ December. _ There are a shit ton of snowflakes in December, Lance thought. She got her rocks off and looked calmer as each shriek echoed into the street. Maybe he’d be better off if he screamed for an hour a day too, Lance thought.

  
  


Lance plucked his coat from the hook, inspecting it carefully. One of the arms had a ripped seam from last winter and clearly the hobgoblins that stole his socks hadn’t repaired it yet. Assholes.

Still, it would have to do. He clicked his tongue a few times and Mavis ambled down the hall to his feet, staring up at him with vague excitement. Really anything Lance did excited Mavis. He could blow a dust bunny at her and she would go bananas. When he pulled the leash off the hook, he was surprised she didn’t shit herself. 

A frantic flurry of barking and tail wagging later, she was leashed. The walk to the park was short; several blocks of old suburbia and older convenience stores was all it took. 

At a glance, the park was average. Perhaps below average. But, upon closer inspection, Lance had deemed it’s sunrises the best in the city. So, boots dug into the mid-winter slush, he turned his face skyward. Mavis did too, snapping at a dry leaf as it drifted to the ground. Crunching quietly, she nosed his hand until he undid her leash.

Lance had always risen early. With the sun from boyhood, through adolescence and now. His other siblings slept well past noon, but Lance couldn’t make it much past 8 o'clock if he tried. 

Slowly, gradually, the dog park filled. Heralded by the barks of their dogs, owners, dog-walkers and early birds shuffled through the wet snow. Mavis greeted them all with a sniff and an eager, full-body wag. Lance warmed as his regulars walked up. A tall, statuesque woman dressed impeccably in furs (faux of course) and a much smaller person whose clothes looked better suited to someone twice their size.

“Lance, you look fresh-faced this morning!” Allura dazzled him with her smile and Lance returned it dutifully.

“Thank you! Is Penny back from the groomers?” He pointed to the well-groomed akita at Allura’s side. It tailed her closely, like a bodyguard. 

“She is! Look at her nails, aren’t they just darling?” Lance bent down and Penny lifted a paw graciously. Tiny nail-covers in a delicate shade of pink. 

“What a princess.” Lance cooed, scratching behind her ears. “Mavis here is getting her teeth cleaned next week. Not nearly as cute as this.” He looked up at Allura and sighed. “Dentastix aren’t cutting it anymore, any advice?”  
“Lance, Allura hand-brushes Penny’s teeth, and I know you don’t have that kind of time.” Pidge patted Lance’s head and he frowned.

“Hey,  _ the dog _ right here.” He moved Pidge’s hand to the dog. He did not want to be petted.

“Oh I know.” Pidge grinned wickedly. 

Lance rolled his eyes and got to his feet. A few yards into the snowy field, Mavis and Turing were sharing a stick. Each held one end in their mouth and as they trotted, they pushed each other in an endless circle.

“God they’re geniuses.” Lance sighed.

“Absolutely.” Pidge agreed, watching with admiration. “Turing’s idea I’m sure.”  
“Hey at least Mavis has the sense to hold the thinner end. She’s making her boyfriend put in all the work.”  
“What a gorgeous couple.” Allura grinned, holding her pink tennis ball aloft. Penny stared intently, sitting at her feet. She threw the ball in a perfect arc and Penny raced after it, tail whipping behind her. It landed just in front of a particularly familiar pair of boots, and Lance barely had time to look the person up and down before a black lab darted out from behind them.   
“Miso!” The man’s sharp voice rang out and Lance felt his heart jump out of his chest. The dog, Miso, clamped his jaws around the ball and jumped out of his owner’s reach. Lance smiled a little to see the man who had been so quiet before gesturing wildly at his dog.   
“Give it back! Miso.” He barked, stomping through the snow. Each time he approached, the lab would scamper further away.   
“Should I…?” Allura’s eyebrows were drawn up with concern. “I mean, it’s fine really but he seems worried and…”

“Allow me.” Lance saw his opportunity to repair whatever opinion the other man had of him, and gave Allura’s arm a reassuring squeeze. 

“Thank you, Lance.”  
“Allura, I hate to break it to you, but this is no pure act.”  
“Excuse me?” Lance cried, stopping mid-step. “Pidge, it’s five in the morning!”  
“Maybe you should keep your voice down, Lance.” Allura cautioned.

“Maybe Pidge should stop talking about my impure motives!”  
“So you admit they’re impure, then?”  
“No! Not the point, gremlin.” Lance huffed, kicking snow in their general direction. Pidge grinned and Lance stuck his tongue out. Allura, as usual, seemed unfazed and watched calmly as he walked towards Miso.   
Clearly distracted by his owner, the poor animal was not expecting Lance behind him. Reaching deftly over Miso’s shoulder, Lance plucked the ball from his mouth just as his owner leapt at the animal. Both landed in the snow after colliding, Lance with ball in hand and Miso snuffling at his mitts and the man with neither ball nor dog. 

“Ah. You got it.” His eyes are bright, catching the warmth of the morning. It opens up his face, and Lance forgets about the awkwardness he’d built up. He isn’t smiling, but the tilt of his jaw lends itself to friendliness.  
“Yeah. Quite the escape artist isn’t he?” Lance smiled and got to his feet, holding the ball above Miso’s eager barking. Where Mavis was excitable, this dog seemed more determined, his eyes tracking the way Lance waved the toy. Part of Lance wanted to scoff at purebred temperaments but he could hardly say that when Penny existed. The dog was a saint and Allura would snipe him if she heard him.

“He’s a handful.” The man said, brushing the snow off of his pants. Lance fixed him with what he hoped was a smile but what was probably more of a grimace.

“Oh, sure. Miso, like the soup?” He asked, tucking the ball into his coat and out of reach.

“No, actually. Miso means smile.” He replied good-naturedly. Somehow, out of the context of Starbucks and strangers in line, he was amiable. “And where’s yours?”  
“Oh, over there, with the stick. She’s the-”

“The boxer-mix. I, uh, I remember.” For all of God’s glories, Lance would never have expected the man to do it. He jutted his jaw out just as Lance had.

“Oh my god. You remember.”   
“Err, yeah. I’m sorry about before it was just…” He looked uncomfortable. “I thought you were trying to pick me up or something.”  
“Oh, no. Never.” Lance assured him. “Or well, not never just. You’re not my type. You’re uh…” He swallowed. “Yeah.”  
“Jesus.” His eyes widened and he looked towards the field.

“And uh, what’s your name?”   
“Keith.”  
“I’m Lance. And that’s Mavis... and Turing and Penny. Oh and you’ve met Allura before, right?” Lance’s eyes darted over the park.   
“No, not really.”  
“What, don’t you talk to anyone?”  
Keith’s eyes hardened. “Excuse me?”  
“Well, I’ve been here a year and you started around that time too, and you don’t know anybody?” Lance raised an eyebrow. He didn’t want to judge, but there was community here. And he’d been watching black lab man for several months. Of course, most of it was just ogling but in his many hours of observation, Lance wasn’t sure he could recall seeing him talk to anyone. He hadn’t considered that his dog-park crush could be a hermit. More so than Lance was himself that is.

“I don’t appreciate your tone.”  
“My tone?”  
“Just because you memorize a bunch of names-”  
“You’re here everyday, aren’t you?”  
“Oh my god.” Keith hissed, and pulled the leash from his belt.

“Where are you going?” Lance asked, brow furrowed.

“Home.” Keith fixed Lance with a look of annoyance. “Miso. Come.” His voice was deep and commanding in the same way as before. Lance’s stomach did a belly-flop in spite of himself. 

Now that the ball was out of view, Miso came obediently. Keith leashed and left in the same time it took for Lance’s jaw to drop


	2. good boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lance gets a treat for being so good

Between his internship, classes and frequent Starbucks visits, Lance had little free-time. However, time could always be found for Mavis. So, after a gruelling day of fact-checking and data entry, he made his way to the Petsmart.  
Mavis pulled him most of the way, and Lance closed his eyes, letting her guide him by memory. Some dogs feared cleanings and groomings but Mavis took it all in stride. The availability of treats in combination with her massive appetite proved to be motivational as well. A girl after his own heart, Lance thought.

Mavis stopped short of the front doors and Lance smiled. Though she was fearless, Mavis simply could not deal with automatic doors, and he didn’t blame her. They were obviously witchcraft. He struggled to lift her into his arms and stepped through the gates of wizardry with her wiggling in his grasp. Once through he set her down and she wagged her way to the counter.  
“I’m here for a cleaning. For Mavis?” Lance asked the clerk, whose back was turned behind the register. He lifted his narrowed eyes from the price-sheet and Lance had the sudden urge to shit himself. Keith’s thick brows hinted at mild annoyance and major exhaustion.  
“Great.” His voice was flat and Lance cringed a little. “Give me her leash.”  
“...Please?”  
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re the kind of person who shits on retail workers.”  
“I’m not! But I am a customer and-”  
Keith took the leash from Lance’s hand and led Mavis around the counter. She followed happily clearly oblivious to the conflict at hand.  
“Hey, I was talking to you.”  
“Cool.” Keith disappeared behind the groomers door and reappeared a moment later without his dog. “It’s forty dollars.”  
“What? Since when!” Forty dollars was a lot of money. It was several frozen pizza’s worths of his meagre income.  
“This really isn’t my problem.” Keith’s dark eyes met Lance’s, and he felt tiny. Lance usually found himself subject to warmth and kindness; he was personable (under most circumstances) but Keith’s vacant expression and tone drove him up the wall.  
“Are you like this with all your customers?” His distaste only made Lance crave a reaction.  
“Just the assholes.”  
Oh my god. Lance was struggling to contain himself. He had half a mind to jump the counter and..and jump him? In either sense of the word, really. He was still undeniably pretty-faced and the way he looked at Lance like he was soggy towel made his skin prickle.  
“Well, make it worth my while.” He huffed and slapped the bills down.  
“I will.” He took the money, pulling gently when Lance wouldn’t move his hand.  
Lance sighed and let go, watching sadly as four pizzas disappeared into the register. “I don’t know how I’m going to afford dinner now.” He grunted. It was just for effect, he knew he had a box of dry pasta in his cupboard, but let Keith feel bad for him.  
“Starve,” Keith replied, handing Lance his receipt. “Or,” he looked away, fiddling with something below the counter. “Have this.” Lance looked down to see a dog-treat in Keith’s palm.  
Out of spite or stupidity or some combination of both, Lance took the treat and shoved it into his mouth. “Thank you.” He hissed, hoping desperately that somehow he had the upper hand. Who was he kidding though, he was chewing a dog treat in front of his dream-boy.  
But, to his surprise, Keith smiled. A small, shy thing that made it sort of worth it. Lance swallowed with a grimace and pulled his hat over his ears.  
“Good day.” Lance walked briskly to the doors.  
“I’m literally going to see you in half an hour. You’re not leaving her here, are you?”  
Well, that was true. He couldn’t leave Mavis, even to save his pride. “Right.” He sighed as the doors slid open.

 

The sweet oasis that was Starbucks called to Lance and he was helpless to resist. Like a siren song, the idea of a hot vanilla latte in his hand was impossible to ignore. Besides, with most of his pocket-money gone, a drink was all he could really afford to get that day.  
When he arrived, Lance was appalled to see the line stretching nearly to the door. He shuffled to the end, face drawn in dismay. Over the shoulders of the man in front of him, Lance saw his friend Hunk taking the order of a very elderly woman. She was gesticulating wildly, pointing, it seemed, at random at various drinks on the board. Ah. Lance gave Hunk a wave and he returned it weakly, clearly exhausted trying to decode this woman’s order.

Cringing, Lance looked down at his phone. He had fifteen minutes left before the end of Mavis’ cleaning, and he was sure he’d make it.  
However, ten minutes later, as Lance waited for the man ahead, who had apparently ordered four different drinks, he wasn’t so sure. It would take two minutes for his drink to be made after he ordered, but the walk to the Petsmart was much longer than that. In the snow, he knew he could make it if he left right away, but he was almost there! It would be a waste of time if he gave up his spot. Besides, Hunk made the best lattes and Lance was hardly prepared to skip that. Not when the acrid taste of dog-treat lingered in his mouth.

Finally, he gave Hunk his order and he grinned when he threw in a free scone.  
“My treat, man.” Hunk said. “You look like you need it.”  
“Thanks.” Lance nodded. “I really do,”

Latte in hand, Lance raced down the street. He was already late but his coffee was warm and he didn’t feel too bad.  
Keith certainly did not share his sentiment. He was standing with his arms crossed behind the counter when Lance arrived.  
“You’re late,” Keith growled. “Late with Starbucks.” he spat out the last part like it was the dog-treat he’d given Lance.  
“Ah. Yes. I am.” Lance looked down at the drink and treat-bag.  
“I was supposed to close at least 10 minutes ago.” Keith stared at Lance expectantly.  
“And I’m sorry?” Lance tried. It was hard to think of a retort when those eyes were on him. “And I got you a scone as an apology?” His voice was unsure and Keith sensed it, squinting at the paper bag.  
“What did you do to it?”  
“Nothing! It’s uh, blueberry.”  
This appeased Keith, at least somewhat, and he took the bag. Lance took a sip of his drink, grateful not to have been mauled by the fierce-looking clerk. “I’ll get Mavis,” Keith said as he set the scone down beside his register. “Stay here.”  
Lance did as he was told, and couldn’t hide his grin when Mavis appeared, tongue lolling over her teeth. “They look nice. Whiter.”  
“We use toothpaste here. Ever heard of it?” Keith handed him the leash. “Seriously, your breath stinks.”  
Lance stared, taking the leash. “What?”  
“Smells like...dog-treats.” And there was that smile. The curve of his lips that said that maybe he didn’t take it all so seriously. Lance really liked it.  
“Guess that means I was a good boy then?” Lance raised a brow and Mavis bumped her head against his leg. Time to go, she was telling him.  
Keith’s cheeks pinkened and Lance grinned. “Well,” he cleared his throat. “Don’t be late next time, and we’ll see.” He handed him another dog-treat. “For Mavis. Not you.” He clarified.  
“Oh, sure. Enjoy the scone.” Lance nodded, shoving it in his pocket and guiding Mavis to the dreaded doors.  
Keith’s eyes followed him to the store and out into the darkening street and Lance shuddered.

  
Once home, Lance fished the treat from his pocket. He had half a mind to eat it himself, knowing it came from Keith, but suddenly recognized the ridiculous level of thirst he was developing. He dropped it and Mavis snapped it up, crunching happily at his feet.  
  
“I can never look at a dog-treat the same way.” He groaned, and Mavis stared up at him happily. “Never.” She just wagged her tail and Lance sighed, kicking off his boots and hanging his jacket. He was not looking forward to the crusty pasta in his cupboard. Did pasta expire?  
If it did, this shit was definitely rank. He’d had it since he moved in, maybe even before. Had it been there when he arrived? And if so, how long had it been there before? He stared longingly at his Starbucks cup, imagining the blueberry scone from earlier. The things he did for cute boys. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment with your fav dog breed / the dog breed you think Hunk, Shiro, Pidge or Coran would own!

**Author's Note:**

> am bad at writing pidge?


End file.
